


The Dark Will Give

by Rednaelo



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bestiality, Blood, Force-Feeding, Forced Pregnancy, Other, Oviposition, Rape, Sexual Violence, Vomiting, for the love of god please don't read this without reading the tags and the author's notes first, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednaelo/pseuds/Rednaelo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus makes a very poor decision that yields horrifying consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Will Give

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, please pay attention.
> 
>  
> 
> **THIS IS NOT A PRETTY STORY.  IT IS NOT HAPPY.  IT IS NOT SWEET. IT WILL NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING. THIS STORY IS FULL OF GROSS AND AWFUL AND TERRIBLE THINGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS.**
> 
>  
> 
> Please keep this in mind if you decide to read.  Also,  _please please **please**_ remember that this is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. I do not condone rape. And if you try to tell me that I do because I wrote this, I am going to laugh at you very loudly.
> 
> This story is in two parts.  Tags will be updated for additional content upon the addition of the second chapter.  Till then, uh...enjoy?
> 
> -Bec 

Rodimus had known as soon as the door closed behind him that he’d already made a mistake.  But he didn’t go back.  He didn’t unlock the door and back away to return to the light.  He walked forward instead, letting his training turn over in his processor like a protective mantra.  The wisdom would keep him safe.  That and his blaster, which was held up in front of him, glowing orange in the absolute blackness, charged and whining gently.

The basement hall was as dark as the spaces between stars.  It was the kind of darkness that Rodimus could feel the weight of, not on his derma but within his helm as it wrapped around the sensors of his optics and filled his processor.  His HUD display flickered with the constant stream on incoming data from his stealth recon protocols.  In the dark, Rodimus could faintly make out the edges of abandoned and overturned crates, clutters of scrap and the faraway glow of the doorlocks at the end of the huge room.

It was not the wisest decision to enter this basement alone, considering Rodimus’ goal.  One sparkeater was enough but he’d started having his suspicions after there had been a few reports about noises coming from the basement.  Red Alert had insisted that it warranted investigation and Rodimus agreed.  He hadn’t bothered to actually tell anyone that’s what he was up to, though, when he’d ducked out of his office to “go check on a thing.”

About five kliks in, crouching behind the cover of one of the crates, Rodimus admitted to himself that, yeah, this was probably a dumbaft idea and that he needed to get the frag out.  Particularly when something quite loudly crashed to the floor a little ways deeper into the room.  Slag like that didn’t just happen on accident.  It sounded like a crate falling over after something had jumped from it. Rodimus didn’t catch the sounds of the landing.  That thing could be anywhere.  He wasn’t sticking around to find it.  Not now; he’d come back after putting together a team and maybe finding the fragging light switch.

Rodimus warily retreated from his position, optics sliding back and forth along an expanse of impenetrable darkness.  His pedes weren’t nearly as quiet as he would’ve liked, thumping gently with every step as he moved back along the mental map that he had kept for himself on his way in.  Counting your steps in a dark, unfamiliar environment was a smart move.  Admittedly the only intelligent thing that the captain had done so far in this little adventure.  Rodimus shook his helm a little, wondering if he could keep this jaunt into the dark unknown a secret from Ultra Magnus.  Primus, he didn’t need to hear a lecture about not thinking things through yet again.

Hushed beneath the soft chuckle that he’d let out without thinking, a prehensile lance impacted the back of Rodimus’ helm.  It pierced through and needled into the nearest brain module port, making his whole frame seize like someone had replaced all his energon with antifreeze.  The blaster tripped over his digits as foreign commands offlined his battle computer.  Rodimus crashed to his knees; the flexible glitter of a metal whip flicked the fallen weapon away.  Rodimus frantically turned over what protocols to follow-through with in a situation like this, a soft snarl rising from behind him.

It was pushing him down to the floor.  Fight it, Rodimus was remembering.  Throw your shoulders backwards. It climbed onto his back. Headbutt it. Lift up your arm and hook it in the optic with your elbow.  The stab in his brain module pushed in deeper, cracking right through his comm circuits.  Rodimus’ optics guttered out in a hard strobe. He screamed.  Trembling hands scraped out from underneath his chassis just as hot exhaust gushed against Rodimus’ audial in a sharp whuff.  The singing whisper of bladetips on dermal plating harmonized softly with the growl at his neck. Something wet oozed onto his shoulder.  Rodimus stared wide-eyed into the darkness while his spark pulsed wildly.  With every fierce and panicked thought that whirled through him – _GET UP GET IT OFF KILL IT GET IT AWAY GET IT THE FRAG AWAY_ – there was an answering shove deeper into his processor, burning like a soldering iron. The pressure cracked and burst through his circuits, giving Rodimus flashes of optical glitching and garbled warnings scrolled through his HUD display in broken pixels.

The sparkeater crouched low on Rodimus’ waist, nasal ridge pressed intimately against the cables of his neck.  It scented him with curious inhales that lined up with every throb through his fuel lines.  The bladed tip of one of its whiplike appendages turned ever slightly in the splintered port at the back of Rodimus’ helm.  He whimpered, biting agonized screams as pain and delirium rushed through in tandem.  One more press and his brain module would split.  Sparkeater food.  

Knifepoints sliced along the derma of his thighs as the sparkeater gave a growled huff into Rodimus’ audial.  It withdrew from him, clawed pedes relinquishing their pressure on his hips.  The blade in his brain retracted a fraction. Rodimus scrambled up.  The stab pushed back in instantly and he froze on his hands and knees, screaming. His helm was thrown forward in attempt to spare his processor but sharpness chased after the contact, pressing in just as deep as before.  Another command drooled into him.  Stay still….  And Rodimus remained petrified, his head down, his shuddering limbs keeping him stationary. Even when jagged blades severed the pressure mains at the backs of his knees, effectively crippling him, Rodimus did nothing but roar in pain and twitch as his balance threatened to give out.  Stillness…his processor insisted.  Stay still. 

This instinct wasn’t his own; it stuck to his every thought like a parasite. 

Rodimus’ optics rolled in his helm as fear began to boil and bubble up inside his fuel tank.  He vented hotly through the cage of his dentae as claws reached for him.  He felt their sharp and bestial scratch like a relived nightmare, taking hold of his hip and thigh, lifting him from where he knelt.  That cold, slavering mouth pressed hard against the curve of Rodimus’ interface panel and it _licked_.  Rodimus screamed.

“Get off me!  Get the frag off me, you spawn of a glitch, GET OFF!”

He tried to kick at the thing but he only slipped, pitching forward enough to smash his face against the floor.  The sparkeater kept him pinned there, sending insistent and sluggish orders into his processor.  The commands turned him stiff like molten metal solidifying in his energon lines.  Rodimus clenched his dentae together hard and growled, his vents blasting hot and frantic.  The monster did not show any signs of letting him up, its nasal ridge skimming up the seam of Rodimus’ panel, tongue following wetly behind.

“I’ll kill you,” Rodimus swore, vocalizer harsh with static, “I’ll fragging kill you; I’ll rip out your fuel tank out of your Primus-damned mouth!”

Maybe all the bluster got to it and that’s why it stopped and pulled away.  Or so Rodimus thought. But that was before the lance-like blades jammed hard into the seams of his panel and ripped it clean off. Rodimus clenched his teeth so hard that one of his dental plates cracked, mouth falling open to then facilitate his overactive venting.  His HUD blinked harsh and red with damage reports and medical warnings.  He didn’t have any wherewithal to clear them out, though, the continuous commands being fed to him blocking Rodimus out of his own processor.

Energon leaked hot down his legs and dripped onto the floor beneath him.  The sparkeater leaned in again.  Rodimus could feel it sniffing and panting against his valve.  His whole body quivered with energy fighting against the parasitic overrides that kept him still.  He needed to get the fuck away, _now_.  But he just couldn’t!  Physically and mentally, Rodimus was pinned to that spot, unable to do anything but whimper in disgust as a cold, wet tongue lapped between the lips of his valve.  Nausea rolled through him and Rodimus barely swallowed back the purge, his hands shaking hard from the effort.

Another of the whiplike appendages caressed the sticky inside of his thigh. Rodimus braced himself, but wasn’t prepared the penetration straight into his spike housing.  When he screamed—optics bursting with sparks from the panicked impact—he shorted out his vocalizer in a snap of static.  Scalpel-sharp blades pierced into the exterior ridge and held snug while a long, thin tube pushed inside the housing itself.  Rodimus didn’t even realize what was happening until the tube breached the narrow opening at the tip of his spike. Fans whirred in horror. His panting so loud in his audials that Rodimus could hear nothing else. His vocalizer sizzled uselessly as he tried to scream.

It was injecting something into his spike, pumping burning-hot fluid into Rodimus that spread throughout his entire pelvic span and had his lower body heaving and jolting.  His spike began to pressurize, to Rodimus’ horror, sliding up and around the length of the tube until it was pushing all the way into the inner mesh of the limb itself. His hips twitched hard and every lurch made pain lance through his spike and up his spinal strut.  He had to be still…. 

Though all the stinging sharpness and aches, Rodimus could feel his plating starting to heat.  Interfacing prompts flashed across his HUD and he groaned as sudden, nauseating arousal surged through his systems.  His valve flooded with lubricant.  Rodimus squeezed his optics shut and groaned.  Aphrodisiac nanites….  Why couldn’t it have been something remotely useful like a numbing agent or a fast-acting fuel poison?  Anything to end this pain and agony…. His spike throbbed and a moan slipped from his lips, chased out by a sob.

It was moving him: picking him up with its razor-segmented tentacles tangled around every limb and twisting him until he was on his back.  The blade in his processor dug in terribly and Rodimus strained to turn his helm and keep the floor from jamming it in even further.  He caught his first glimpse of the thing’s face, ethereal and nightmarish, lit only by the glow of the digested sparks hovering in its fuel tanks.  Shredded derma peeled away to reveal fangs like bayonets snarling down at him hungrily, acid-green drool wetting the grossly exposed and elongated cables of its neck.  Those optics were wide and sparkless white, tearing right into Rodimus’ internals and seizing them in a knot of fear.  It crouched over him with its face near his cheek, sniffing and licking the condensation off the thin plating with its tongue.  Rodimus shuddered hard from finials to the rigid squeeze of the living ropes around his thighs.

It would’ve been easier just to fall into his hollowed-out processor.  To let his optics shutter and roll back and try to wait out however long this torture would last.  The heat from the nanites spread upwards, reaching through every energon line, melting into his wires and seeping through cables until Rodimus felt like his internals had smelted, electrocuted to a shocked stiffness.  His spike throbbed hard; Rodimus squeezed his eyes shut and gasped.

The knife still shoved into his helm shifted and pushed.  And Rodimus followed its whispered guidance as it trickled suggestion into his thoughts.  He was made to sit up, frame slumping like a marionette as the sparkeater’s strings directed him.  He was turned to face it head on, cradled up off the ground with his arms and legs hanging uselessly.  If he focused, he could hear the steady drip of lubricants splashing onto the floor beneath him, squeezes out by every wet twitch of his valve.  Another sick shudder roiled through Rodimus’ systems as the monster laved its solvent-soaked glossa against his lips.  He snapped his dentae shut tight and clung to the bolt of pain it sent zapping through his circuits, tip of his tongue probing subconsciously at the crack in the plates.

Beneath his own growl and the open-mouth snarl that answered it, Rodimus heard the click of an interface panel retracting and resisted.  Put up one more fight before giving up, one more attempt to break free of the twisted bonds.  There was a nudge against him, cold and stiff, sliding and stretching the quivering folds of his valve.  Rodimus thrashed.  He shrieked, shorted vocalizer scraping inside his throat. 

“No, no, please, just stop, stop it, stop, don’t!”

The words came out grating along his vocal strings and Rodimus felt coolant welling up in his optics from renewed panic.

When there was a slicing sting against the wet mesh of his valve, his terrified venting froze.  He held as still as a steel strut but the blade only cut in deeper.  The sparkeater crouched and leaned, its belly pressing firmly against Rodimus’ abdominal plating in a strange bulge.  Rodimus could clearly feel its spike lay against his own in its cage.  Which was enough to make him realize what was invading his valve.

The bladed limb plunged straight through his valve and into his gestation tank.

Rodimus’ back arched in a curved bow bent on snapping.  Tears gushed hot down his face while knife-edged fingers stretched and tore and yanked through his internal machinery.  A cold, dripping mouth closed over Rodimus’ own, broken wide in a scream.  Energon flowed just as hotly from between his legs as his own lubricants had just a moment a go.  This flood was _burning_.  It seared hot through lacerated mesh and ripped tubing.  Rodimus choked on the tongue that had thrust down his intake, gagging with sudden lurches that only pulled harder at his internals.  Purged fuel leaked between his own mouth and the monster that kissed him.  The blades shrank; the limb snatched back and Rodimus screamed again as he felt it take something with it.

“I’m g-gonna die…I-I-I’m gon-nna  die,” Rodimus whispered around the retreating tip of the sparkeater’s tongue.  He stared straight up into the darkness as his helm lolled back, the ever-present jab of the knife in his processor buzzing in time to a frantic fuel-pump.  The air was rotted and heavy with the scent of processed energon as the sparkeater rubbed its bulging stomach against Rodimus and jabbed its spike at the mangled gash of his valve.  He coughed hard and sick drooled thickly from his lips.  His fingers twitched.  The blade pulled out of the back of his head and Rodimus’ optics went wide.  He sucked in a deep gasp and choked on it.

The sparkeater shoved him down hard against the floor and mounted him, its thick spike breeching him all at once with a snap of Rodimus’ bursting calipers. Rodimus lay there, choking on oral solvent and purged energon while it thrust punishingly into him, the brutal pace scraping hard across his internal nodes and ripping up the delicate mesh of his valve. The grasp of the whips that wound around his limbs tightened.  Their sharp points dug agonizing pinpoints into his derma.  Finally, a frantic reboot restored a bit of function to Rodimus’ vocalizer.  Every thrust was met with a responding grunt, a moan of pain, a gasp or a sob.  Rodimus’ fingers scrabbled against the floor, smearing pools of energon and lubricants.  It didn’t matter; there was no breaking the hold it had on him.

And it almost made him laugh hysterically, thinking about it.  The sparkeater had pulled itself from his mind because it knew it no longer had to force him to be still.  It had weakened him enough to keep him down with its own strength and nothing else. His comm systems were still offline; the circuits cracked clean through.  He could only scream if he wanted to call for help.  Rodimus almost purged again. 

The monster’s spike stabbed repeatedly into the gored entrance of Rodimus’ gestation tank, raking against raw wounds like razor wire running through him.  And with a bestial roar, it stopped.  It shuddered and dug its long, nasty claws into Rodimus’ hips to hold him still. Rodimus shivered hard, his chassis convulsing as he sucked in a broken breath to try and ease himself.  It was over now…it had to be over….

He could feel himself filling up with an engorging amount of transfluid: enough to make him twist and dry-heave on the floor as he waited for it to finally stop.  But then the creature hunched and snarled loudly. There was a substantial weight as something _bumped_ against the wall of Rodimus’ gestation tank.  His optics seared white in terror.

“No….”

There was another bump.  And another.  And another.  Rodimus dared to look down as a fourth impacted his innards.  He saw it gently bulge through the fine mesh of his abdomen before settling.  Something round…something small…something warm….

“NO!”

The sparkeater screamed at him and took hold of his helm, slamming it down into the floor and pinning him there.  It jammed its digits into his armor and held him still as it pushed more eggs inside.  Every single one strained the thin plating of his abdominals, filling him to the point of pain and nausea that Rodimus had never thought possible. He’d had lost count how many times he felt the faint stretch of his over-abused valve and the corresponding knock of another egg settling inside him.  The arm still clenched around his spike shoved downwards, immobilizing his hips and Rodimus trembled, his mouth moving without any words coming to the surface.

Scream for help, he tried to remind himself. 

Both of the monster’s hands were grasping his helm, yanking and turning it so he faced the optics of his nightmare unabashedly.  It leaned in and pushed its thumbs between his lips, forcing his mouth open while its tongue snaked out, only to slide all the way in again.  Rodimus’ hands struggled hard at his sides as that glossa pushed deep into his throat once more.  He could feel the hard contractions of the Sparkeater’s stomach against him, very distinctly gagging much the way Rodimus was.

There was a hideous retch that came from the sparkeater, its oral solvents trickling, suddenly warm, into Rodimus’ fuel intake and then there was a searing _heat_ pushing into his mouth.   The sparkeater pulled away minutely, only to push at the thing it had deposited in Rodimus’ mouth with its thumbs.  It shoved what Rodimus realized was _spark_ towards his intake and then knuckled at his throat in long hard strokes until he was forced to swallow it.

Rodimus vented hard, optics wide and blanched, feeling that intimate and all too-swollen burn travel slowly down his throat before falling into his fuel tank.  He fought purging, spitting up processing acids before the sparkeater was leaning in again, holding his mouth wide.

Futilely, Rodimus screamed.  Screamed into the monster’s mouth as it regurgitated another spark and slipped it gently into Rodimus with its tongue.  Rodimus shook his helm hard and pushed his tongue at it, trying to spit it out.  But it was so big, already loosening an abused hinge in his jaw.  Claws rammed, fingers pulled the cords on his neck and kneaded his throat.  The heat descended and sank to the burn inside.

“S-s-stop…,” Rodimus rasped, not knowing why he even bothered.

The sparkeater spit up one last spark.  It glowed soft and blue between them, all the light gone from the beast’s transparent tanks in offering to Rodimus’.  Rodimus had given up fighting.  Simply holding his mouth open, tongue outstretched to take it.  If he didn’t fight, perhaps it wouldn’t damage him anymore.  The sparkeater leaned and dug its knife-teeth into Rodimus’s lips as it deposited the last spark into his mouth.  Rodimus swallowed it hard, quaking in the hard grip of his captor.

He slumped forward, looking down at himself to see his distended stomach and the unnatural glow coming from his own spark, which was whirling four times as fast in its chamber in response to proximity of the others.

The sparkeater’s clawed cage that kept Rodimus’ stimulated spike constricted suddenly began pumping around him and Rodimus sobbed.  His cries pushed out the fetid breath that filled his mouth as it licked and the residual spark energy clinging to his lips.  Another hot pump of nanites gushed through him and he moaned, hands wrapping around the cables that held him down.  There was no pleasure in this.  Only mindlessness.  And Rodimus shut his optics and wished it was over.  What did it even want from him?  Overload?  Why else would it be milking his spike like that?

Rodimus vented slowly and opened his optics again, staring into the darkness as tears gushed hard down his cheeks. 

“Sorry, glitch,” he rasped, spitting out something nasty.  And then he laughed.  He laughed from the very center of his body where his fuel tank was full of sparks, which would undoubtedly be the first meal of the spawn he was now cradling in his gut.

The sparkeater shifted.  It pulled its spike from his valve and slid down Rodimus’ chassis until its face was nestled gently between his legs.  And with long, firm strokes, it lapped at his external node, claw pumping in more nanites as it thrust around his spike.

“No…,” Rodimus moaned, his hips pushing up in a hard arch.  “No, no, no…!”

It pumped him faster.  Licked him with flicking little teases.  And the caress of its knotted hold around his arms and legs softened into long strokes up and down every limb.  Rodimus’ body shivered and twitched.  With every jolt and whimpering cry, he could feel the swell of the eggs inside him pushing hard, grinding against over-sensitized nerve sensors and jolting sick pleasure through his systems.  His venting came ragged, broken over his lips as oral solvents trickled over his chin and down his neck.  And over and over again, that slick, cold tongue darted against him, sliding down on occasion to lick the juices squirting from his brimming hole.

When Rodimus overloaded it was abrupt and excruciating and he barely even registered the claw pulling off of his spike, the sounding rod retracting. The sparkeater had sucked up every drop of transfluid, which it then spurted right into Rodimus’ bloated gestation tank.  Rodimus shuddered hard as the claw withdrew from his valve once again.  The whips uncurled from his body.  The darkened sparkeater drew away.

Rodimus lay slack in a pool of his own fluids. He didn’t move or fight as he felt the sparkeater crawl and curl itself protectively around his helm.  And he lay there, venting slowly in and out and staring into the deepest darkness he’d ever known.  Quietly the kliks passed by into cycles.  The body pressed tight against him steadily stopped moving and grew stiff with death.

And after about three million repeated reboots, somehow his cracked circuits flickered to life.

Rodimus sent one ping to Ultra Magnus.

_Save me._


End file.
